Reflecting on Judas warrants a few important caveats.
First and foremost, render judgment with great humility. We almost never have all the facts. (That's why, by the way, I'm dying to read a substantial novel later this summer, because fiction is the one arena where we do have complete information.)
Betrayals trigger strong feelings and quick judgments. In my case, I thought that I understood Jude's motivation. Then I asked questions and watched the truth unfold like May flowers. Petal by petal, reality came into focus. Once I had a fuller picture, Jude's action didn't seem quite so hurtful. Sometimes he isn't as bad as his reputation insists.
Second, having an Iscariot in one's life does not make one Jesus. I am not Christ! (At least not more than anyone else.) I am no martyr, just a lifetime subscriber to "Human Race" magazine.
Third, it's important to check, double-check, and triple-check one's information. The great 20th-century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein remarked how humanity has an infinite capacity for self-deception. People have rationalized their actions ever since God confronted Adam & Eve about the missing apple. Thus, in my quest for understanding, it's helpful to have a support network of advisers to keep me honest. It's too tempting to bend the data into the picture I want to see.
If nothing else, meditating on Iscariot makes me appreciate the value of friendship. Good friends are absolutely essential. We need their help navigating through the wilderness east of Eden.
Showing posts with label Betrayal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Betrayal. Show all posts
Monday, June 14, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Judas, My Friend
Judas Iscariot lives on. I know him and love him. So what do we do now?
As every Christian knows, Judas was the disciple who betrayed Jesus of Nazareth to his enemies. The Gospel of Matthew reports that Judas sold him out for 30 silver pieces (Matt 26:15, 27:3). The other canonical gospels report only that Judas received "some money" (Mark 14:11, Luke 22:5); John does not even mention a motivation. Nevertheless, in all four scenarios, Judas is portrayed as making the gravest of mistakes. None of them give much insight into why he turned on Jesus or what, exactly, he later regretted.
I find myself wondering about a parallel-universe scenario. Suppose, for the moment, that Jesus did NOT die on the cross after the trail adjudicated by Pontius Pilate. Imagine that Pilate stuck to his guns, the unruly crowd grew bored, and everyone went their separate ways. As a result, Judas also survives, because there is no murder on his conscience.
With Jesus and Judas reunited, what happens next? Would Judas try to reclaim his place among The Twelve? Would Jesus encourage him to return, or would he revoke his membership card?
This is not just a hypothetical question. Everyone one of us will be betrayed at some point - every single one. It's a reality of the human condition. And it begs an important Q: what do WE do when someone Iscariot-izes us? I'm far from a definitive answer, but I have reflections to share.
Based on the recorded teachings and behavior of Jesus, I'm going out on a limb to say that we should still love the traitor. Jesus probably remembered why he loved and trusted Disciple Iscariot in the first place. Jesus didn't forget that Judas, in his moments of weakness, did not forfeit his status as God's sacred creation. Jesus did not let the "shadow side" (to use a Jungian term) of Judas trigger his own shadow. Rather than answering eye for eye, sin for sin, he let go of whatever was bothering Judas (impatience, jealousy, greed, rage... or perhaps he was bipolar without the benefits of meds?).
At the same time, love & forgiveness are compatible with an essential concept in justice and reconciliation: accountability. Jesus did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it (Matt 5:17b). Even though we have Christ and other religious figures to inspire us, we still need to have rules and guidelines about how to treat each other. So I'm guessing that Judas would be O-U-T as a trusted disciple.
I would also speculate that Jesus would not replace Judas among the Twelve, at least not at first. Emotionally centered man that he is, Jesus would give the Eleven time to vent, grieve, and adjust. (On the subject of loss, a wise person once told me that "women grieve and men replace." Perhaps we dudes should give ourselves permission to feel our losses and not plug emotional holes so quickly.)
In sum, my Judas tonic is threefold: process all of one's feelings, especially the unpleasant ones; keep our eyes on the ball, reminding ourselves of the second great commandment to love our neighbor (Mark 28:31); and hold people accountable, especially ourselves.
The subject of self accountability brings me to the Rule of Rotating Biblical Characters. At different points in our lives, we all find ourselves in the roles of different scripture characters. Sometimes we are Mary, humbled and overwhelmed by God's blessings; sometimes we are Jacob, causing all kinds of chaos; and then we have those Iscariot moments. Our misdeeds almost never reach the Judas level, but we do betray trust in many forms and degrees of severity. I, for one, have betrayed the trust of good people more often than I want to admit.
You see, I know Judas because I am Judas. He is me, and he is also my brother. We broke bread at the same table. We shared laughter and tears. We talked books, history, religion, family, the meaning of existence. We sang, prayed, and worshiped together. Literally and figuratively, we embraced. And then came that betrayal thing.
Yes, Judas lives, and I believe he will always be part of this earthly world. With Judas inside me and beside me, I'm trying to live into the Christian hope: no matter what betrayals befall us, no matter what acts of mistrust that we commit, the commandment to love stands below, beside, above, and through us all.
I conclude with a message to Jude, my friend. Even though your seat at Table Twelve is empty, remember that I love you. And when I am grieving, feel free to remind me that Jesus loves us both.
As every Christian knows, Judas was the disciple who betrayed Jesus of Nazareth to his enemies. The Gospel of Matthew reports that Judas sold him out for 30 silver pieces (Matt 26:15, 27:3). The other canonical gospels report only that Judas received "some money" (Mark 14:11, Luke 22:5); John does not even mention a motivation. Nevertheless, in all four scenarios, Judas is portrayed as making the gravest of mistakes. None of them give much insight into why he turned on Jesus or what, exactly, he later regretted.
I find myself wondering about a parallel-universe scenario. Suppose, for the moment, that Jesus did NOT die on the cross after the trail adjudicated by Pontius Pilate. Imagine that Pilate stuck to his guns, the unruly crowd grew bored, and everyone went their separate ways. As a result, Judas also survives, because there is no murder on his conscience.
With Jesus and Judas reunited, what happens next? Would Judas try to reclaim his place among The Twelve? Would Jesus encourage him to return, or would he revoke his membership card?
This is not just a hypothetical question. Everyone one of us will be betrayed at some point - every single one. It's a reality of the human condition. And it begs an important Q: what do WE do when someone Iscariot-izes us? I'm far from a definitive answer, but I have reflections to share.
Based on the recorded teachings and behavior of Jesus, I'm going out on a limb to say that we should still love the traitor. Jesus probably remembered why he loved and trusted Disciple Iscariot in the first place. Jesus didn't forget that Judas, in his moments of weakness, did not forfeit his status as God's sacred creation. Jesus did not let the "shadow side" (to use a Jungian term) of Judas trigger his own shadow. Rather than answering eye for eye, sin for sin, he let go of whatever was bothering Judas (impatience, jealousy, greed, rage... or perhaps he was bipolar without the benefits of meds?).
At the same time, love & forgiveness are compatible with an essential concept in justice and reconciliation: accountability. Jesus did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it (Matt 5:17b). Even though we have Christ and other religious figures to inspire us, we still need to have rules and guidelines about how to treat each other. So I'm guessing that Judas would be O-U-T as a trusted disciple.
I would also speculate that Jesus would not replace Judas among the Twelve, at least not at first. Emotionally centered man that he is, Jesus would give the Eleven time to vent, grieve, and adjust. (On the subject of loss, a wise person once told me that "women grieve and men replace." Perhaps we dudes should give ourselves permission to feel our losses and not plug emotional holes so quickly.)
In sum, my Judas tonic is threefold: process all of one's feelings, especially the unpleasant ones; keep our eyes on the ball, reminding ourselves of the second great commandment to love our neighbor (Mark 28:31); and hold people accountable, especially ourselves.
The subject of self accountability brings me to the Rule of Rotating Biblical Characters. At different points in our lives, we all find ourselves in the roles of different scripture characters. Sometimes we are Mary, humbled and overwhelmed by God's blessings; sometimes we are Jacob, causing all kinds of chaos; and then we have those Iscariot moments. Our misdeeds almost never reach the Judas level, but we do betray trust in many forms and degrees of severity. I, for one, have betrayed the trust of good people more often than I want to admit.
You see, I know Judas because I am Judas. He is me, and he is also my brother. We broke bread at the same table. We shared laughter and tears. We talked books, history, religion, family, the meaning of existence. We sang, prayed, and worshiped together. Literally and figuratively, we embraced. And then came that betrayal thing.
Yes, Judas lives, and I believe he will always be part of this earthly world. With Judas inside me and beside me, I'm trying to live into the Christian hope: no matter what betrayals befall us, no matter what acts of mistrust that we commit, the commandment to love stands below, beside, above, and through us all.
I conclude with a message to Jude, my friend. Even though your seat at Table Twelve is empty, remember that I love you. And when I am grieving, feel free to remind me that Jesus loves us both.
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